


Dancing 'Til the Dawn

by SingerQueen



Category: 12 Dancing Princesses (Fairy Tale), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingerQueen/pseuds/SingerQueen
Summary: In a tower spelled to keep people inside, a mystery blooms when twelve magical prisoners are given new shoes every morning, only to be found riddled with holes and covered in dirt the next morning. Where are these witches escaping to? Prince Arthur undertakes a quest to find out.Armed with knowledge of how to solve this mystery and with an enchanted cloak, there is only one thing Arthur isn't prepared for: The blue-eyed warlock who appears to be the most powerful, and beautiful, of them all.Retelling of The 12 Dancing PrincessesMerthur Fairytale!AU





	Dancing 'Til the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sprl1199](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprl1199/gifts).



The trees were made of magic. 

The first grove was glinting silver, shining above Arthur’s head as he followed at a safe distance, the leaves themselves glimmering down at the prince until he could barely stand to look at them for the shimmer being so bright. They glinted against the dim moonlight of the sky above them, sky when they shouldn’t even be outside, when they shouldn’t even be in a forest at all. Arthur had followed the sorcerers through a secret panel in the wall of their bedchambers. There was no possible way that it could have led here. 

The second grove was golden. The trunks of the trees, the vines leading down, and even the leaves were woven through with golden threads. Knitted into the very fabric of the wooden trunks, the gold was indistinguishable from the rest of the forest. When the king of this land had called for a competition, he’d promised gold to any who could solve the mystery of where the twelve dangerous sorcerers were going at night: Where were they disappearing every evening that left their shoes caked with mud, covered in small shards of metal, and riddled with holes by morning? 

The third, and last, grove was the most radiant of all. Endlessly glinting, never a surface that didn’t shine in the light, the final grove was laden with diamonds. Gemstones hung from the branches, lay embedded in the forest floor, and dotted each of the tree trunks in elegant patterns that adorned the sides of the bark. After so many knights and common-folk alike had failed at the task, Arthur had volunteered himself to attempt to solve this mystery. Yet, nothing had prepared the prince for the beauty of this secret land they’d built for themselves, seemingly out of nothing but the dark magic in their hearts, behind the walls of their tower prison. 

It had been Gaius, Camelot’s own court physician, who had enabled Arthur to get as far as he had in the competition. Arming the young prince with a cloak that allowed him to pass unseen through this enchanted forest, as well as the advice not to eat or drink anything he was given, Gaius had known how to succeed at this task. 

The task itself sounded, at least, simple: A knight, or any man sufficiently brave, would enter the Sorcerer’s Tower, a prison from which no magic-user could escape. The twelve prisoners within consisted of a vast array of magicians: witches, warlocks, druids, nymphs, and sidhe. None of them were meant to be able to escape the confines of the tower, but yet, somehow, they were doing so. It was evidenced by the state of their shoes by the time the morning light arrived. Any man who could solve where the twelve sorcerers went at night would be appropriately rewarded with riches beyond their wildest dreams. 

So far, no one had been able to solve the mystery. 

Now, having avoided their magic-laced food and followed the sorcerers beneath his enchanted cloak, Arthur knew he had discovered the truth. After the trees, after a lake that he’d crossed silently from one of the sorcerers’ rowboats, Arthur had arrived at the prisoners’ destination. 

A palace. 

The grandest palace Arthur had ever seen, brighter and of finer quality than even Camelot, it shone just as brightly as the forest surrounding it. Ghostly men danced within, visible only if one focused and then barely-there the moment one looked away. Each of the magic users paired up with them, gliding around the room giddily and laughing at conversation muted to anyone but the magic users themselves. 

Every sorcerer had a partner. 

Every sorcerer, except one. 

“Hello, princeling.”

Arthur whirled, one arm reaching for his sword and the other holding tighter to his enchanted cloak. 

The sorcerer merely laughed as Arthur drew his weapon. Arthur froze completely, barely breathing as he took in the sight of the sorcerer. It was the one from the tower who’d brought him his meal - the meal that Arthur had avoided, knowing it was magic-laced. He was lanky and his eyes were like two blue storms, easy to look into and easier to get lost in. Dark hair was adorned with a silver circlet, and his clothes were made of fine azure and maroon fabrics, making Arthur look the prisoner and the sorcerer look the prince. 

Arthur wondered briefly if the cloak had ever hidden him at all. It must have shone on his face, for the sorcerer spoke again. “No, don’t worry, it works. I’m just very good at sensing enchantments. You may as well come out, I can can see you, Prince Arthur.”

With slow fingers, Arthur lowered his hood, the rest of the cloak spilling to the floor in a puddle of fabric. “You tried to bewitch me earlier. With the food,” Arthur said, his sword not lowered one inch. 

The sorcerer frowned. “Yes, I did. I am sorry about that, I never like that part.”

Arthur watched the sincerity and regret bloom in those blue eyes, but tried to reassure himself that he was right to feel suspicious. Uther had spent decades teaching him how magic-users were tricky. And yet... Arthur had always doubted. He had always wondered if there may be more morality than they understood to these people Uther had always considered so monstrous. Arthur supposed this quest was his way of finding out.

“What is your name, sorcerer?”

“Merlin,” the boy replied with what Arthur had to admit, even as he resolved to question the warlock, was the dopiest, sweetest looking smile Arthur had ever seen. 

“And where are we, Merlin? What strange land is this?”

The sorcerer grinned. “Just inside a closet, really. But an expanded one. The girls, each of the most powerful of them, made a different part of this land. It was all crafted from the last of their magical possessions. All they wanted was freedom, so they built it for themselves.”

“So... this land isn’t really... real?”

“Well... I suppose it’s real, but it’s not naturally made. It’s born of magical relics. Nimueh crafted the Silver Forest from a silver chalice. Morgause made the Golden Grove from an enchanted golden wrist cuff. Sophia made the Diamond Orchard from the gems of her staff, but she’s extravagant like that. And Freya built the lake from an enchanted tear, I thought that one was really rather brilliant-”

“And who made the palace?”

Merlin looked taken aback for a moment. “Oh... that was me.”

“You made this? The towers, the dancer partners, all of it? Out of what?”

“Well... nothing. I didn’t need a relic to sacrifice for my magic.” Merlin shrugged, his tone offhanded. “Palaces aren’t that hard, really. They’re all alike in a way.”

Arthur blinked. His tone was hesitant when he spoke again, “...Is that your way of saying that you’re more powerful than the rest of them?”

Merlin laughed but something had changed in his face - something had turned serious within the irises of his eyes. “I am more powerful than all of them combined. I could shatter their land, even our tower, as quickly as any of them could raise their hands to cast a spell, and all of them know it. I have the power to set us all free.”

“So why haven’t you?”

Just as quickly as it arrived, the darkness in Merlin’s face departed with the smaller-framed sorcerer’s shrug. He averted his eyes down and something in the dopey sweetness returned. “Where would I go if I did that? Who would I go to?”

Arthur didn’t respond. 

After a long moment, Merlin continued. “We just come here to dance. Maybe just to have somewhere to go. And we... we missed dancing, I suppose.” 

And for being a Prince of Camelot, Arthur has done his fair share of impetuous things in his life. But none more impetuous than what he did then, staring into blue eyes that suddenly looked more forlorn than Arthur could bear, feeling a strange sense of kinship with this powerful young being. 

“Would you like to dance with me, Merlin?”

The sorcerer’s head snapped up and his pupils grew wide. “..With you, Prince Arthur?”

“Yes. I mean... if you’d like to?”

“... I would.”

~-~-~

They danced until dawn. 

It struck Arthur as strange. He’d never pictured these sorcerers wearing out their shoes by dancing the night away. He’d pictured gruesome and violent escapades, he’d pictured rituals that wore down the very earth with their shoes alongside, he’d even pictured the witches wearing down their shoes at night with needles and fake mud in their own bedrooms, cackling at the mystery they’d laid out before the knights and enjoying the havoc they’d wreaked on the king’s nerves.

He’d never pictured teenaged girls and boys, like himself, missing the feeling of dancing until their shoes were worn down to the soles.

Come the first rays of sunlight, Merlin’s smile was still more radiant than the emerging dawn. He’d ruined his shoes dancing, as had every sorcerer present. Some had already made their ways back to the tower, some still mingled with near-invisible dance partners in the light of the sun’s first rays. 

“I’ll not tell your secret, Merlin. I’d rather claim failure than ruin this for you. You all have one freedom and it hurts no one.” 

Merlin frowned. “It hurts the knights we drug, lacing their wine with sleeping potions. Claim your prize, Arthur. I’ll find somewhere new for us to go. I wouldn’t continue this way, not if these knights are as good as you.” 

The dark-haired sorcerer pushed a satchel into his arms. 

Arthur opened the small bag and viewed its contents. A silver leaf, a golden-twined vine, and a diamond-studded branch lay alongside a jeweled goblet from the palace interior. All the evidence Arthur would need to turn them in to the king. 

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice faltered. “I wouldn’t... I couldn’t take away what little freedom you have. Not if the other sorcerers are as good as you.”

But Merlin shook his head. “But this isn’t freedom. Dancing with you... dancing with you was freedom. This was never meant to last. Someone will claim this prize and solve our mystery someday, Arthur. I’d rather it was you.” 

Arthur took the satchel, letting it weigh his arm down like it was filled with heavy iron instead of bits of scrap metal and a single goblet. “Will I see you again, Merlin?”

The sorcerer smiled, but something sad tinged his eyes. “Let me help my sisters, first, Arthur. Perhaps someday, I will find you again.”

~-~-~

The prince journeyed back, crossing the lake, crossing the diamond forest, and crossing the golden forest. It wasn’t until the lip of the silver forest that he encountered the witch. 

“Merlin is weak,” she in a wicked red dress began, in lieu of greeting the prince. The witch leaned against one of the glittering trees, ice in her gaze. “He doesn’t see reason. Drugging you princes, allowing you to leave the next morning unscathed, when really, what he should have been doing all along - was killing all of you.”

Arthur felt chills run down his spine. This was what his father had warned him about. These were the witches that would stab you in the back and dance gleefully around your prone form as you bled out. 

The witch continued. “He doesn’t believe we can keep up this charade. He promises he can build us something better, where no one needs to get hurt. But perhaps we don’t need better. Perhaps we just need a different version of what we have now. A bloodier version.” 

She raised her hand and Arthur found himself flying.

Flying backwards, too fast to catch himself or even draw his sword. Flying backwards until the back of his head collided with one of those glittering silver trees. Flying backwards until his vision went black and he began to fade.

As Arthur drifted, the world dimming to black, he could have sworn he heard Merlin's voice. Could have sworn he saw the blue of Merlin's eyes, and perhaps for a second, a flash of gold.

~-~-~

Arthur woke with a massive headache. 

Still groggy, he felt the polished wood beneath his cheek and heard the warm brazier of the throne room before he opened his eyes. When he finally opened them fully, it was to a voice.

“Such a disappointment.” The king stood over Arthur, face lined and the corners of his mouth downturned with displeasure. 

Arthur pulled together some semblance of composure. He climbed up to his knees, kneeling instead of lying prostrate on the floor, wiping a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth before he spoke, “I- I’m sorry, sire. I couldn’t discover their secret. I’m afraid I’ve failed at my task. I have not discovered the secret of the sorcerers.”

The king’s frown grew. 

“So be it. Guards! Throw this mongrel out.”

The guards moved as one towards Arthur, and for a moment, Arthur was thinking of all of the poor souls, sorcerers and common-folk alike, that Uther had bodily thrown from the palace. He supposed, in a roundabout way, this was deserved as payment for all of his father’s slights. 

But, as the guards moved, one of them in the corner knocked over Arthur’s satchel. The sound of small pieces of metal hitting the polished wooden floor made them all hesitate. It was the king himself who strode the distance to Arthur’s overturned satchel and sorted the contents. 

A silver leaf. 

A golden-twined vine. 

A diamond-studded branch. 

A jeweled goblet. 

But not only that: alongside them were maps of the forest itself, complete with a course mapped from the sorcerers’ bedchamber to the secret palace. Drawings of the ghost-dancers, of the boats on the lake, and even of the witches themselves, bespelling the wine that each knight had been put to sleep with. 

It was the full story, laid out in plain terms for the king to see. 

Arthur didn’t need to say a word. 

~-~-~

Over the next hour, the king ordered every one of the magical prisoners brought to him. He ordered the wall with the secret passageway to be cut down. He ordered twelve executions. 

The guards couldn’t find even one prisoner. 

As if they’d never been imprisoned at all, the sorcerers were gone. Every bed made perfectly, with their personal belongings disappeared from the tower. Upon knocking down the stone wall where the passageway was, the guards found themselves looking at the regular blue sky and the green of their own front courtyard. No magical trees made of silver, gold, or diamonds to be found. 

Arthur collected a gold purse that rivaled any trophy a prince of Camelot had ever brought home from a quest. The sorcerers’ sudden disappearance seemed to prove Arthur’s story all the more, even if it did pose a new problem for the king to solve. Arthur had solved the mystery, for better or worse. 

Saddling his horse, Arthur secured the heavy prize purse to his saddle. It was what he’d been after, what he’d wanted. Yet, Arthur didn’t feel like he’d won anything at all. 

It was then that a voice behind Arthur broke his melancholy. 

“Fancy taking a souvenir warlock home with you?” 

Arthur ducked his head, laughing incredulously, before he turned around. His tone was half mocking, but half drowned in sweet, soaring relief. “Come here, you ridiculous dancing oaf.” 

“Oi!” But Merlin came to him all the same. 

And as their lips met in a first kiss, gentle and slow, and then a second and a third, Arthur found breaths in-between to murmur, “Finally had a reason to escape your tower?”

“May have found one, yes.”

“And the others?”

Merlin pulled back from Arthur’s arms just enough to glance up at the tower, the two of them standing just far enough away that they knew they weren’t being watched. “Some are back on the island, permanently. I wasn’t letting Nimueh go anywhere after what she did. Others, I set free. They’ll find their own ways.”

Arthur nodded. “That is generally how freedom works.”

“Shut up, you great prat,” Merlin groused, but he grinned as he said it, leaning his forehead to rest against Arthur’s.

After a long moment, Arthur spoke again. 

“You know you’ll have to hide your magic if you come to Camelot with me? I can promise you’ll be safe to practice magic when I’m king, but... you’ll have to wait.”

Merlin smiled and it felt like dawn all over again, the sunrise living in Merlin’s gleaming expression instead of the sky. 

“I can wait.”

And as they rode off together, prince and sorcerer passed trees of oak and pine, not a single one gleaming with polished metal or dripping gems. The lakes they passed didn’t shimmer with secrets, and the people they met stayed firmly rooted in reality, never flickering to smoke or tricks of light. But somewhere deep within their hearts, sorcerer and prince were still dancing - still spinning dizzily and wearing through the floor, ready to greet a new dawn brighter than any Camelot had seen before.

**Author's Note:**

> Yuletide gift for sprl1199. Prompt was for a 12 Dancing Princesses retelling, possibly crossed with another fandom, hopefully they like it! In my head, Arthur becomes king and lifts the ban on magic and Merlin is his court sorcerer forever after. 
> 
> My first fic in the Merlin fandom. If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or kudos. :)


End file.
